


nighthawks.

by hopebites



Category: Chainsaw Man (Manga)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, F/M, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memory Loss, Smoking, at least spoken abt, major spoilers for part one of the manga!, more tags will be added as I go on!, will add more character tags as it goes on!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-04
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:02:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29187510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopebites/pseuds/hopebites
Summary: Maybe the second hand smoke was getting to you, but you’ve never seen Aki’s gaze appear so...deprived? Deep ocean eyes honeyed and pensive, suspended in longing. To always observe but never to hold.And of all things, it was directed atyou.
Relationships: Hayakawa Aki/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 64





	1. i.smoking section

“Those things can kill you, y’know.” 

It’s just the two of you, for once, huddled together in the cramped booth of a hole-in-the-wall-diner. The place was practically a ghost town at this hour, the only sound being the mute murmur of the radio and the ‘ _clink_ ’ of utensils between the both of you. 

You were so enraptured with the anmitsu in front of you, delighted in the honeyed-sweet flavor on your tongue, that you hardly looked up from your plate. It wasn’t until the familiar sour scent of nicotine tickled your nose did your gaze meet the man across from you. 

Aki takes a long drag of the cigarette--holding his breath for one, two, _three_ seconds-- a ribbon of smoke leaves his parted lips. The usual gray almost gold in the aged yellow lights. 

“Out of everything in the world, this--he bumps the head of the stick into the ashtray, crumbling the second it tapped the ceramic--isn’t what’ll make me kick the bucket.”

And the cigarette finds its rightful home back between his teeth.

Even though there wasn’t a trace of humor in his voice (when is there ever, you think) a laugh escapes you, because it was true. 

Neither of you were ignorant of your occupation and the danger that followed it. As devil hunters-no-public safety devil hunters, you faced atrocities that the average person could never handle. Each time you clocked in a day was shaved off your lifespan. It’s almost guaranteed you’ll meet a bloody, bitter end the second you sign up. 

In the grand scheme of things, a small stick filled with nicotine and whatever else would be a blessed way to die compared to what your other options were.

But even still, what was the point of fighting for a brighter future, risking it all for just a glimmer, if you voluntarily kept yourself from seeing it because you were too much of an addict? And you tell him as such.

Aki gives you a noncommittal hum, chewing his food.

“Besides,” You start airily, “Those things smell like crap, I don’t know how you can even shove so many in your mouth a day.”

He stops his chewing and raises a brow.

“What?”

“That’s a little hypocritical, coming from you.” He says.

You blink, taken aback. 

Aki gives an exasperated look, eyebrows furrowed and frown etched into his lips. He looks at you as if you dropped the ball on some inside joke between the both of you, an important secret that seemed to slip your mind. 

When the silence stales, his gaze changes from annoyance to confusion.

“..You’ve smoked before, a ton of times--you still owe me for those two packs you burned through.” He says bluntly.

“Do you have me confused for Himeno? Because I’ve never touched a cigarette in my life.”

The aged fluorescent light between you flicker and it makes his clear cobalt eyes appear to pulse as he searches your face; probing, dissecting gaze piercing right through you and it makes your stomach churn and your mouth go dry. You don’t know what it is that he’s looking for, what he sees when your eyes look back at him that make the fingers cradling the cigarette tense so strongly that it almost shivers in his grasp.

You open your mouth to speak, but his rigid face melts into something more somber. 

_Oh_. You know that look.

Pity.

You swallow.

“Did-did I forget..again?” You ask, but you both know the answer. Aki stares at you for a moment longer, apprehension and something else you know you’ll hate in his eyes before his gaze flits away from you, staring at something just past your shared booth.

“Yeah.”

“..Ah..”

Whatever light and flighty air that mingled between you dissipated at the mention of your contract’s consequences. 

If any of your coworkers were asked, they’d all answer in their own ways that you were a strong, dependable, hardworking, devil hunter. Someone you’d want in your corner when you need it most. But if you wanted someone to keep a secret or remember confidential information? You weren’t the one for the job.

In exchange for your devil’s power, it’d pick a memory of yours to eat. It wasn’t always bad--using small amounts of power only resulted in a blip slipping your mind; what you ate the day before, clothes you wore, certain conversations. 

Difficult missions that require larger amounts are what do the most damage--weeks, months, even a year could pass through your mind without a trace and you’d never notice. Faces of people you should recognize now a clean slate, current events that you’d never register.(You still remember the red irate face of your buddy when, after a taxing mission, her whole existence was gone from your conscience. The look of absolute betrayal mixed with resigned grief is one thing you wish you _could_ forget out of the myriad of memories you desperately try to hold onto.)

You couldn’t recall how Aki felt about it, or what else you’ve forgotten since you’ve known him, but the glassy look in his eyes makes your chest ache.

He licks his lips and a beat of silence follows. It’s not something unusual, it wasn't like he was much of a talker, but this time it feels just as oppressive as the grey haze drifting along your shoulders. All you could do was stare at the idle cigarette between his stiff fingers, desperate to focus on anything else besides the reason for the tension between you.

“Did I like it?”, a breath of a laugh escapes, uneasy, “The cigarette, I mean.” You look to him, floundering, hoping to distract and will away the dejected look coloring his face. To give you something you knew how to handle. A cool, stoic, dependable Aki. The Aki that doesn’t appear to be ten steps from cracking. 

A beat passes, he clears his throat, and the moment is gone. Tension you didn’t notice building in your shoulders deflates and for just a second everything is okay. Just two normal co-workers in a shabby diner blowing off steam.

Like normal people do.

He shrugs and takes another drag in thought. “..I don’t think it’s something you can necessarily _like_. It’s more of an acquired taste.” 

It wasn’t exactly the answer you _wanted_ , but you’ll take it. Anything to escape the thought of your lacking recollection. You rolled your eyes, letting the fake irritation mask your silent sigh of relief. “ If someone’s smoking a pack a day they have to _like_ something about it.”

He watches you silently in response and takes one last pull of smoke from the stick, closing his eyes as he inhales. You imagined how it must taste, what made such a small stick of nicotine so addicting?--was it as woodsy smooth as the smoke pillowing through the air suggested? Or was it like bitter chocolate? Dark and all consuming throughout your mouth until its hinted saccharine flavor glazed along your tastebuds? If you of all people were so dependent on such a thing it must have had a hint of sweetness to satiate your palate. 

How did it taste to Aki’s tongue?

His lips part and tendrils of smoke waft towards you. Honest curiosity drives you as you lick your lips, aiming to catch a taste and your eyes dart upwards only to find his pointed downwards, half lidded. Your skin prickles and warms all over. 

Maybe the second hand smoke was getting to you, but you’ve never seen Aki’s gaze appear so... _deprived_? Deep ocean eyes honeyed and pensive, suspended in longing. To always observe but never to hold.

And of all things, it was directed at you.

Something, somewhere deep in your chest, lurched at the thought. Made your hands sweat and your knee jerk impulsively, only for it to knock with his. But he doesn’t move an inch, and maybe you’re hallucinating, but you swear you can feel the heady heat from him through the thick material of your dress pants. Feel it spread throughout your body, fervid and all consuming.

You can’t help but notice how close you two are. How the cramped and tiny booth creates its own atmosphere to dome you both together compared to the vastly empty diner surrounding it. And yet, Aki still looks at you.With so much space to cast his gaze to, he still looks at you. A heavy weight in his gaze that you’re not so sure you could handle.

Your eyes moves to a indecipherable point behind him and you inhale, deeply, _and_ -

You can feel it deep in your throat and up your nose. The fumy, burnt stench of smoke coating your tongue and you almost gag. Coughs sputter out through your lips and in a panic you reach across the table to the soda Aki had been nursing the whole night, gulps a gallon in size. Aki throws you an irritated look when the sparse patrons look at you both sharply, but you can’t help but notice through your tear ladened eyes that the frown etched into his lips doesn’t reach the silent mirth lying deep in his gaze.

“You _liar_! How could anyone smoke these when they taste like _that_!” You say haggardly.

He’s stubbing out the cigarette, the smoke from the ashtray now a curtain to his face, not catching the pink on the tips of his ears.

“Some people are just hopeless addicts.”


	2. ii.peacefall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can hardly remember days where Aki wasn’t around, and you’ve never doubted his abilities enough to consider he never would be, but Himeno wasn’t wrong.
> 
> Aki is cool and serious. Dependable and selfless. A kind guy you’d see on the street.
> 
> A normal guy.
> 
> _That’s what makes him as good as dead._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> includes major spoilers for chapters 25-30! as well as light mentions of alcohol and canon typical gore

You don’t think you’ve seen a sunrise so breathtaking. Or at least, you don’t _remember_ seeing one.

Even in your hungover state-- eyelids heavy and bleary in its alcoholic daze--you can still appreciate the warm hues of pink, purple, and blue that glow across your face. Almost sweeter to view up upon the terrace than the sugary syrup you lick off your bottom lip. You rarely have the opportunity to drink at Himeno’s, schedules always too conflicting, and you intend on indulging in every moment while you still have a chance.

Speaking about the eyepatch-clad women, Himeno lazes about across from you, eating her share of fluffy pancakes and speaking about a topic you’re listening to half committedly. 

You can’t help but think she appears more reserved than usual, words fluttering through her mouth a mile a second, yet all of it superficial. Just filling the silent morning with noise. At the end of the day, you didn’t really mind though; content with the warm morning shine and your pancakes drowned in strawberry syrup. If she wanted to interrogate you on what your least favorite vegetable was (which were eggplants, those things are horrid) then so be it. Why ruin such a good morning over small details like that?

“Hey, do you like Aki?”

You choke.

A laugh rips through her, the smile resting on her face doesn’t reach her eyes. She looks at you the same way a wolf watches its prey before it pounces, gaze sweeping for weakness, opportunities to strike. But her body language is picture perfect nonchalance, with her legs crossed on the seat and her head resting in her palm.  
You blink, embarrassed, waiting for the punchline of whatever unfunny joke she’s dropping on you. And Himeno stays quiet, the only part of her moving is the left eye that watches intently.

You shrug. “I-I mean, I _guess-_ ”

She tilts her head. “So you _don’t_ like Aki?”

“No! I mean-Yes!” Heat warms you from the top of your head all the way down your neck. What's this all about? She’s probing you about your affections the same way one would interrogate about the ethics of cannibalism. “ Of course I like him, he’s a friend.”

A long, drawn out sigh leaves her nose. The sickly sweet smile still stained on her lips. “Okay, how about this? Do you like-like Aki? Do you love him?”

You open your mouth, feelings you didn’t know how to phrase on the tip of your tongue, and close it. Busy your hands with the napkin laying in front of you and keep your eyes trained on the horizon; anything to distract you from the question posed before you because in all honesty--you’ve never humored these thoughts before.

_Do you love Aki?_

He’s a familiar face, someone who always happened to be around--you could hardly remember a time where there _wasn’t_ a Hayakawa Aki in your life. He’d ask if you liked to tag along for lunch with him and Himeno. If he didn’t get the chance? He calls you later that evening. When you’re sick he drops by with medicine and homemade soup. He even walked you home once when you forgot the way to your apartment, and though he complained most of the time, he still made sure you remembered the way and even offered to walk you again the next day. 

And when an assignment went awry and you landed in the hospital, he was there when you awoke, shaky hands and tracks of tears you pretended not to notice.

Dependable, familiar, attentive Aki was a close friend who resided even closer to your heart; always feeling lighter after you spoke to him.You couldn’t fathom a world where you didn’t know him, where he didn’t exist.

But does that mean you _love_ him?

The thought makes your heart drop to your stomach, because any pursuit of passion in your profession is just a pipedream. As long as anyone carried that godforsaken badge in their pocket, they became a beacon for self damnation. That’s why devil hunters always dropped like flies, too fast for you to learn their names or bother remembering it. You can’t afford to care too deeply, to hold anyone close to you but yourself.

But you _do_. And in a world where you face the most grotesque phantoms of reality, are you at fault for attaching to someone who makes it enjoyable? Even for just a moment?

You’re way too hungover for this.

“Hmm, well I like Aki. He’s pretty easy on the eyes, dontcha’ think?”

You raise a questioning brow and meet her gaze, and it's as if she sees right through you. Feeling exposed you busy yourself with the leftover food on your plate. The pancakes are cold and soggy and taste like chalk on your tongue.

“He’s really kind too, y’know? Super selfless.”

“Yeah..”

“And he’s pretty serious..I’ve never met anyone so hung up on that damn gun like Aki is..”

You give a hum.

“Yep. That’s what makes him as good as dead.” Himeno says languidly, the same tone of voice you’d use to talk about the weather and you almost miss it.

Startled, you laugh, it comes out as a forced breath of air. “What’d you mean? Don’t believe in your own buddy’s abilities?”

She looks to the horizon. The sun is creeping along the clouds now, almost in view, but still tucked away. Himeno stares at it with somber eyes, the playful, almost sinister smile wiped clean from her face. A shadow of who she was a moment ago.

“It’s _because_ I believe in him so much..,” She mutters, voice thick, pauses. “Aki is..he’s cool and serious and kind--he’s the type of guy who’d help old ladies on the street, but-”

She looks at you, earnest, “ If you saw him somewhere, you would never think he was a devil hunter because he doesn’t look like--doesn’t act like..”

She points a finger to her chest, then to yours.

Aki isn’t like Himeno. He isn’t like you, either.

Because Aki is normal.

And you, with your spotty memory, are not.

There’s nothing in you that objects to the suggestion, but it doesn’t stop you from resenting Himeno just a little for saying it. For the food in your stomach to feel like stones weighing you down.

You lost your appetite.

“I hope you didn’t get me drunk last night just to tell me how normal Aki is.” Your voice came with more bite than you’d like, but you don’t take it back. Himeno accepts the venom and throws it away, chuckling in response.

“I want him to leave public safety--switch to the private sector or change jobs completely--I don’t care.” She says, “But he can’t stay here.”

“Okay? Why’re you telling me?”

She gives you a look, eye glittering with mischief and a devilish grin on her lips. People say that contracts can only come to fruition between a devil and a human, but if they felt the clutch of Himeno’s perspicacious eye, they’d know bindings between mortals are the most consuming of them all.

“Well..he’d never listen to _me_.”She drawled, “But if I had someone to give a second opinion..”

And leers up at you.

You scowl, but before you can get a word out Himeno reaches across the table and grips your hands in hers.  
“Listen, he’s the first buddy I’ve ever had that hasn’t kicked the bucket in the first six months, you can’t just waste a life like that.” Her voice wavers,your chest pulls at the sound.

“I care about him.” She says.

“And if he’s such a friend that you like,then you must care about him too, no?”

You fix your gaze to the intertwined hands and Himeno gives them a warm squeeze, a summer smile. Your cheeks flush. 

You can’t remember the last time someone held your hand.

You’ve been in public safety as far back as you can remember, for a good chunk of your life you’ve been wearing the same uniform everyday, but you barely know any of your co-workers. There were familiar faces you could halfway recognize in the fourth division, and you’re sure you’ve probably had a good conversation with a couple of them, but a harsh assignment would come around and you’d..well..forget.

Maybe people took that as you being apathetic. To be budding friends one day and give them the cold shoulder the next. Or maybe they thought it to be a fruitless endeavor. Why be friends with someone you could never reap the benefits of a close connection from?And as your memory left, so did everyone else. 

Then you met Aki.

When you think of your first meeting, you can’t remember much except for the fact you gave him a bloody nose that you never apologized for. But even after that, he spoke to you the next day.

And the next.

And the next.

And then before you knew, you’d go out to lunch with him and Himeno. Help out with groceries, he’d come to your apartment and help you relearn whatever kitchen appliance you forgot how to use. 

_That’s what makes him as good as dead_

You can hardly remember days where Aki wasn’t around, and you’ve never doubted his abilities enough to consider he never would be, but Himeno wasn’t wrong.

Aki is cool and serious. Dependable and selfless. A kind guy you’d see on the street.

A normal guy.

_That’s what makes him as good as dead._

And no matter how strong you are, normal never survives in a fight against the irrational fears of others.

The thought alone leaves a bad taste in your mouth. Because a world without Aki wasn’t a world you wanted to relearn.

You sigh. “Fine. But I’m not asking him first, you bring it up.”

Himeno gives you a grin, spreading as smooth as margarine across her face and you almost hate how infectious it is. Your mouth twitches.

“But y’know,” You say belatedly,“ caring for others is a pretty typical thing. With the way things are going, we’ll be six feet under before we can help anyone else.”

Her hand rummages through a discarded jacket and pulls out a cigarette, studying it before slotting the stick between her teeth in a fashion you’re all too familiar with. Her smile glints like a branded knife.

“I’ll be sure to finish my business before then. In the meantime--wanna take a puff ?”

_“Hell no.”_

~  
A year and one bullet wound later, Special Division Four shrinks to five members.  
~

You don’t know the movie you’re watching.

Eyes glazed and unfocused, you stared at the television screen as a mess of muddy and muted blues and blacks gave way to a blooming primrose red. The delicate color bleeds into every corner of the screen until it seeps its way into the apartment, consuming all four of you in an eye straining scarlet that makes your eyes burn. You blink and _ah_ ,

It’s blood.

The crimson sucks the technicolor vibrance of everything around it, the wailing women on screen appearing more lifeless than her wound suggested. A pair of hands came into view, haphazardly pressing makeshift gauze on her abdomen. It was shrapnel, and if you weren’t so out of it, you might have looked away in disgust from where it protruded. 

Instead, you ogled the television, taking in every pixel until it’s seared into your mind. Your own messily wrapped abdomen throbs at the scene and you move to thumb at it, to rip the gash open wide once again in hopes of keeping the memory of why it’s there. 

Because there's a familiar tug in your gut, a ringing in your ear, that tells you that this wound will join a litany of scars that you have but don’t remember why. And it terrifies you.

Because Himeno is dead, and the ghost that always haunts the graves of her colleagues will not be buried herself.

There wasn’t a body left to bury.

Aki stops your hand before it can make contact with your shirt, and changes the channel.

You probably shouldn’t have been watching it anyways, but Denji picked it. And, from what you gathered, the kid has only seen one movie in his life. It felt wrong to say no.

(Then again, him and Power are off snoozing together on the edge of the couch, you’re sure he wouldn’t mind if you shut it off, not that Aki cared.)

Your side still hurts. You squeeze his hand.

It’s warm.

“I heard Madoka quit.” He murmurs.

You blink, a pair of glasses and a faded scar comes to mind, and nod, a little dazed and foggy-eyed. 

“The new girl, what's her name? Kobento?”

“ _Kobeni_.” Aki interrupts.

“She told me she’s gonna resign soon.” 

The studs in his ear shimmer in the perwinkle halo of the room, catching your eye. A children show is playing now, one of the characters is moving away. They all huddle together, teary eyed, and cry.

Aki changes the channel.

“Do you think it’s the right choice?” You look at him, but he keeps his gaze on the tv, “quitting, I mean.”

Your side hurts. You squeeze his hand. His right eye’s a little foggy. 

(Distantly you wonder if it’s due to the Future Devil. Did it show him what you’d do if he didn’t catch your hand? Or was it all Aki’s intuition?)

“It’s better for them to quit now while they're ahead then find out later.” He answers. 

It’s a chick-flick. The heroine’s reuniting with someone she met before, they embrace in the rain.

You change the channel.

“Why? Are you considering quitting?” In the corner of your eye, his earring flashes and moves, he turned his gaze to you. 

The back of your mind thrums like a war drum and your mouth feels thick and gummy. Your gut lurches, urgent. There’s something you wanted to say to him, something he _needed_ to know, but you draw a blank.

You turn your head, Aki is still turned to you. The tv screen gleams a bright white and your breath hitches. He looks _awful_ ; paler than you remember and two, crescent moon bruises under his eyes. He’s still waiting for a response.

He looks glassy, almost transparent and you wonder if you should say anything at all. Terrified to say the wrong thing because there’s a weight behind his gaze when he looks at you and you might just crumple under it; might just say the wrong thing and he’ll break.

_‘That damn gun’_

Oh. Right.

You reach out to cradle his cheek with your free hand and he leans into your palm, ( _was it the future devil or aki’s intuition_ ) gently swiping your thumb on the lavender skin that resided there.

It’s still warm. You hope he gets some sleep after tomorrow.

“I gave up too much to stop now, I have to at least meet the devil waiting at the end of this. _We_ have to meet the devil waiting at the end of this”

_‘That damn gun’_

The words felt muddy on your tongue. Was that the wrong thing to say?

Aki sobers up and nods. You give him a (summer) smile.

Denji and Power startle themselves awake and you jump, moving your hand. He clears his throat and rest his palm where your hand used to be, thumb absentmindedly sweeping under his eye and your cheeks feel hot.

You must’ve circled back on the channels, because it’s showing the first movie. The women lays in a hospital room now, abdomen smothered in gauze and dressing, but she still bleeds through. Shocking the white surroundings in a hot pink.

Your side throbs, Aki squeezes your hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope everyone is staying safe and keeping warm! Hell (ie: Texas) has frozen over and this is the first time in three days that I've had any internet at all lol so any mistakes ill be sure to edit out later!
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed the story so far and u can hit me up @ devilsodas on tumblr if ur feeling risky


	3. iii. blue shift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wonder if there is something in the town that the country can’t offer. 
> 
> You don’t want to think too hard on that, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> very, _very_ , light spoilers for the bomb girl arc, but you wouldn't even be able to notice it if you haven't read it so...

You’re perusing through the snack aisle, debating which awfully sugary and salty potato chip you’d force Aki to buy this time, when Denji ambles towards you.

“Town mouse or country mouse.”

You grab a boldly colored bag of chips--‘ _taste better with each bite_!’ in a fluorescent lemon --and shake it twice. Too light for your liking, you grabbed two more. “What are you talking about?”

“D’you think the town mouse or country mouse is better?” Denji questions, studying your movements before shuffling the items in his palms into the basket hanging off your elbow. He looks at the row of chips, grabs two random bags, and shoves them in as well.

Brows scrunched in confusion, you halt in your movements. “Mmm..is that a new fad from some teen magazine? I never heard of that before.”

“Nah, it’s this guy named Asshop? Acehop? I dunno.” The syllables slur together when he says it, rushed, and you can hardly decipher the words. “But there’s these mice, one’s from the country, the other the town.” 

“The country mouse is safe and all, but it has zero fun or good grub. The town mouse gets all the fun and grub, but it's always getting into trouble.”

“And you have to pick between the two?” You confirm. Denji nods, hands shoved in his pockets.

You tilt your head, “Lemme guess, you picked the town mouse?” 

He grins. “Who wouldn’t want good food?”

Chuckling, You fight the urge to ruffle his blonde strands. From what Aki’s told you, Denji’s virtually been close to homeless for the past sixteen years of his life. No family but a dog he refers to from time to time. 

Sometimes, when you’d come over for dinner, you’d see the way he eats; scarfing down every grain of rice and almost licking the plate clean, a man eating his last meal, that your whole body would ache, starting from your chest and spreading all over. 

Everyone should have that at his age, right? Loving parents, no worries if you’ll have warm food on the table or a roof over your head ( _but did you even have that? If you didn’t would you even know? How could you feel pity for the youth if you don’t know what youth looks like?_ )

You try not to think about it too often.

The options milled about in your head, like marbles in the palm of your hand.

“Being safe sounds great and all, but I’ve never been to the countryside before, so..” Denji nabs another bag and shows you for approval. _Wasabi and Beef_. You give a disgruntled face and he tosses it back with a huff. 

“So the town mouse then?” 

“I’d say yes, but that’d be a little biased. I’ve never been outside Tokyo.”

A groan sounds from behind you and, across the aisle, is Aki juggling ten different types of meat in his arms, his face matching the red of the marbled pork. Power is right behind him, shoving an unnecessarily large slab of wagyu beef into the cart with maniacal laughter.

( _I’m saying this for the last._ damn. _time_.-)

You should probably intervene before he grows homicidal. 

“Why are you interested in this anyway?” You ask. Denji huffs, fidgeting with a red bag of shrimp chips ( _now with garlic and butter!_ ) and haphazardly tosses it into the basket.

“There’s this girl,” He starts.

“Oooh, a _girl_..”You drawl.

He sputters.“I don’t like her or anything!”

Grinning, you bite your lip to hold back a laugh, “Never said you did.” You think he looks a little irritated, with his cheeks flushed a deep rose and a scowl framing his face, but the same mischievous smile stays on his lips. 

“Anyways, she was the one who told me about it, I was wonderin’ what you would’ve said. We’re supposed to go to a festival tomorrow night.” He states lightly. 

“Ah, if they have it, you should eat some takoyaki while you’re there. That always tastes the best from a festival stall.” You beam. “Be sure to have fun! Oh--and tell me about it once you get back.” For any devil hunter, it’s difficult to hold connections to those outside the business. You wonder how it must feel for Denji, sixteen and not knowing a single person his age who’s, well, 

_Normal._

The only times he goes out is for work or rare days like these when Aki (foolishly) thinks they’ll behave at the supermarket. Does Denji even know what’s normal for someone like him? _Do you?_

He gives you a thumbs up.

( in the corner of your eyes, you spot Power with at least fifty different types of cat food in her arms, marching to an oblivious Aki with a tyrannical smile on her lips.

it’s probably time to leave anyways..)

You sift through the basket hanging on your arm, double checking the junk food will last until the next time you decide to mooch off Aki’s credit card. A variety of bagged chips with different mascots thrown across the bags, pints of icecream and mochi, and at the very bottom, a magazine with...two naked women on the front. You snatch the offending book with a gasp, thrusting it into the blonde’s face.

“ _No way_ , you know for a fact he’s not gonna buy this. And if you hand him this at the counter, Aki will punch the crap out of you.” 

Denji grabs both the basket and the magazine, rolling the book before slotting it under his arm. “ Not if you but it.”

“I’m not buying that.”

“Then I’ll just sneak it in.” He waves off. At the sound of shouting, you both run to deescalate whatever nonsense Power got herself into this time. The magazine and Aesop forgotten.

( Aki _does_ notice the porno mag and he _does_ hit Denji over the head with it...but he buys it anyway.)

-

“Town mouse or country mouse?”

He scowls at you through the mirror, muttering. “God, not you too.”

You swing your legs from where you reside on the kitchen counter, tapping your nails against the marble, anything to ease the nervous energy that makes your hand shake. Nyanko is slinking through your legs like a maze, begging for your pets every so often. You bring the cat into your arms, scratching the spot right behind her ears and she purrs, bingo. You raise a brow. “Did Denji already ask you?”  
He doesn’t answer for a few moments, busy as he loops his tie and knots it. Aki takes a moment to scrutinize its placement, then turns to face you. “Angel Devil.” He states, he says the name like it’s poison on his tongue.

“Oh yeah, how’s that working out for you?”

“He’s a _hindrance_.” 

You stroll over to him until you’re both chest to chest and he stills. This close, you can feel his exhales drift the hairs at the top of your head and discern the specks of jade that’s always consumed by his seas of deep blue. He notices your stare, and swallows.

You take the tie into your hands and tilt it a little to the left. “You think everyone is a hindrance when you meet them. I’m pretty sure you _loathed_ me at first, but now look! I get to babysit your cat!” Nyanko meows on cue and you turn back to him with a wide grin.

Aki stares for a moment, taking in the both of you before groaning into his palms and striding into his room. 

“That’s not my cat.” He calls out.

“You still haven’t answered my question!”

He groans again.

“Why do you need to leave so suddenly anyways, it’s Friday night, we should be done for the week.”

“Nomo called for me!” He shouts. The name doesn’t ring a bell. 

“Great, now answer my question.”

He trails back into the hallway, coat in hand. Nyanko follows his footsteps, meowing after him.

_Not his cat, huh?_

“What’d you say?”

You roll your eyes, exasperated, “I _said_ : answer my question!”

“No-- to _Denji_.”

Oh. You shrug, “I didn’t give him an answer. I’ve only seen the city, so I don’t think I could’ve given an accurate reply.” You say nonchalantly.

“It’s not really about where you’ve been--it mostly deals with preference.” Aki hums and shrugs on his coat.

“Yeah, but,” You finger at the stray hem of your sweatshirt, skittish, “well, I don’t know much from before I was like, what? Fifteen, sixteen? Even then things are kind of fuzzy..”

The hand he had on the doorknob stills, and Aki gapes at you, silent. You don’t know if you should continue your thought, unsure if this is information you want to give away to him, but his silence eggs you on. “ But I wouldn’t really _know_ what I would prefer, since I don’t know a lot about..me. Maybe I hated the city, but I’m still here--Or I hated the countryside which is why I live in Tokyo, but I’ll never truly know the original intent..I’m just _here_. Who’s to say the things I do now are things I would’ve done before I forgot everything”

The words come out muddled and jumbled together, and with the way he’s staring, you wish you could shove them all back into your mouth, never to come out again. You know that _he_ knows that you worry about this from time to time, but the thought of being this vulnerable to anyone, even the person you know better than yourself, shakes you differently than any devil ever has. You wonder if you’re acting selfishly, to bare this out to him, because it always looks like it hurts Aki more than it hurts you.

You don’t like to think too hard on that either.

“That’s why I wanted to ask you,” you rush out. “I thought you’d have a better idea..”

Aki abandons the door altogether, standing before you in the kitchen. His eyes are glassy but the rest of his face is set in stone, unsure. “Does that even matter?”

You frown.“What?”

“I mean, if you enjoy yourself here, isn’t that good enough? Does it really matter what you thought , or who you were, five, ten, years ago? I like who you are now, I’m not that worried about who you might have been before.” He says, voice just above a whisper. 

You blink, mind blank. You can feel the blood rush in your ears, roaring, as he searches your face.

_I like who you are now_

You think you should say something back, something just as momentous to ease the furrow in his brow, the same heat to your neck,but all that comes out is a measly, “Oh.”

Aki looks into you with the same eyes he had back at the diner and all at once you’re unsure of where he’s going with this. What you should do. What lines to cross. Your fingers flinch at your side. In the corner of your vision, his fingers do the same.

But then he blinks and it’s gone. You don’t know if you should sigh out of relief or disappointment. 

You pointedly decide to hold your breath. 

“And for the record,” He starts, hand on the door, “I chose the town mouse.”

The door clicks just as silently as it was opened.

Nyanko meows out to you, pawing just below the cabinet that holds her dinner and you breathe out a sigh.

“What would you prefer to eat, town mouse or country mouse?” 

She hisses. 

You should probably feed her before Power accuses you of animal abuse.

-  
Later into the night, with the cat now fed and sleeping, you’re perusing the bookshelf when a small children’s book stands out to you. 

The rest on the shelf are novels of varying lengths, so it sticks out like a sore thumb and, out of curiosity, you grab it.  
The binding that holds it together is frayed and aged, the fabric of the book singed and faded. The cover is almost completely black, with the exception of a smiling rat on the corner.It’s a miracle it’s even in one piece. 

You flip through it, an array of colors flickering on each page until it lands on the last one. It’s covered in blue crayon in a child’s chicken scratch, but at the very top of the page it reads: 

_**‘Which mouse has it better?’** _

__

_**Town: Me, Dad  
Country: Mom, Aki** _

_‘And for the record, I chose the town mouse.’_

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you wonder if there is something in the town that the country can’t offer. 

You don’t want to think too hard on that, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly I loved the convo between reze + denji and angel + aki. especially with the whole implication that aki only wants to stay in the 'town' aka: devil hunting due to the gun devil, then later power and denji, instead of the safety in the country from the violence of his revenge and the death that surrounds their work is just *clenches fist* sad lol
> 
> also thank u all to your kind comments, i appreciate every single one, even if I don't have the time to reply right away!!
> 
> anyways, I hope u enjoyed this! next chapter is gonna be an angst train, sorry in advance! and u can always stop by [here](devilsodas.tumblr.com) on the hell website to talk if ur feeling groovy

**Author's Note:**

> I am on my hands and knees begging Fujimoto for more aki content,,
> 
> anyways, I finished all of part 1 in one night and went into hysterics, which resulted in this lol. I was actually going to write one big piece, but it got TOO big so it'll be split into parts! this is probably going to cover the whole course of the manga, so read up to chapter 97 if you don't wanna be spoiled!
> 
> as always, thank you for reading! and you can come talk to me [here](https://devilsodas.tumblr.com) on tunglr.com if ur into that sort of thing


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